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JUST OUR LUCK 



iARY AND HER ION 



v 
F. HARRIS CLAFLIN. 



ISN'T HE A DARLING? 



MARY AND HER SON, 

Or, GOING ABROAD. 



A FARCE-COMEDY. 



■ V 

F. HARRIS CLAFLIN. 



BOSTON : 

Babb & Stephens, Printers, 

1885. 






Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1885, by 

F. HARRIS CLAFLIN, 
the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C 



TMP92-008833 



PREFACE. 

One of the greatest ideas in the minds of some people, is the preju- 
dice against all classes of theatrical entertainments. The plan of this 
play is to show how foolish and absurd this idea really is, and is aptly 
illustrated in a serio-comic manner by the eventful life of an Actress, 
who, like many others, first meets opposition in her own home. See 
Story on next page. 



CHARACTERS. 

MARY, . ' 

HER SON, "small, but such a clear," 

SAMUEL ANDERSON, her papa, a thrifty deacon, and proprietor of a summer 

resort, 

ISABEL ANDERSON, her mama; one of the "old school," and enthusiastically 

opposed to anything of the theatrical order - . 

MARGARET MASON, an ideal Soubrette from the City 

LEVI CHICK, a good summer resorter, ....... 

MRS. EMMA CHICK, Levi's last love 

WILLIAM JAMESON, a "real heavy man," 

PARSON DEEPROOT, a "deep" one „ 

ANDREW JENNINGS, Mary's Manager, . 

CHARLIE GLADSTUN, Suitor No. i 

JOHN BRADLAW, Suitor No. 2 

SARAH PILLSBURY, the Anderson's handy maid, 



THREE ACTS. 

ACT I.— The Gem. 

ACT II. — Mary's Headquarters in Boston. The Engagement. 

ACT III. — London Captured. 

Five years are supposed to elapse between the first and second acts. 



STORY. 



The Anderson's are very fortunate in the possession of a charming daughter, 
though she is a great annoyance to them, simply because she "loves the theatre." 
They have established a summer resort called the Gem, and are quite successful. 
Among the new comers are Mr. and Mrs. Chick, who are as troubelsome as the 
average customers. Soon an Actor and Actress arrive, and then Mary's cup of joy is 
full. The pleasures and bright prospects found in the dramatic profession are by 
them painted in very bright colors, and she is more than ever determined to be one 
of their number, much to the discomfort of her parents. The second act shows what 
success she achieved after five years of hard work. The Son arrives, and an en- 
gagement is made for an European debut. Her success in London is wonderful, and 
its effect upon society is illustrated by two of " Those Splendid Englishmen " and 
others, while an accidental meeting with "papa and mama," their good wishes, and a 
new claimant for the SON, makes a fitting finale. 



Jfcy and Jfc Son, 



PROLOGUE. 

Here is instituted a Burlesque upon the old idea of a Prologue before the 
opening of the play proper. Two ladies, dressed in quite ancient 
costumes {or tights , etc.) appear before drop curtain and speak al- 
ternately the following lines, which in the maiti explains the plot, 
and gets the audience in a proper mood for the play. 

i st. — A man and wife, a goodly pair, 

2d. — Had a darling daughter, who was nothing but fair. 

They loved her much, they loved her long, 

And were determined she should be kept from wrong. 

In their minds a great stigma was upon her, 

For she would love the theatre. 

And often declared she'd become an actress some day, 

Though she had never witnessed a decent play. 

Her parents a summer resort did keep, 

Which was not very "tony," though far from cheap. 

To this hotel an actor and actress came, 

Who were, as yet, not known in fame. 

They imbued this girl with "lofty" ideas about their profession, 

And soon offered her a "fine position." 4 

From this little incident a long and bright career did commence, 

Which, as usual, gave papa and mama much offense. 

But we will show you to-night, 

Why this little girl in her actions was quite right. 

So look and listen, and you shall see 

How it is explained in our repartee. 

{Exit.) 



Act I 



THE GEM. SCENE, Dining Room aud Office. Box Set. 
Table in centre, partly filled with dishes. One door at back, centre; one 
at left, and another at right. Window at right of back door. Old fash- 
ioned chest of drawers. For Costumes, etc.. see Notes at end of book. 

Enter Mrs. Anderson. 

Mrs. A. — The season has fairly commenced, and we are in good luck. 
There is some chance now of my having a new dress. Those Chicks are 
such splendid people ; hope we will have more like them, {arranges 
room.) 

Enter Mr. A. 

A. — Isabel ! what are we going to do about it ? Isabel ! Isabel ! 
{stamps his foot) 

Mrs. A. {jumps back) — What, you old calf, you, don't you know bet- 
ter than to make such a noise ? Mrs. Chick is trying to sleep ! 

A. — I don't care anything about Mrs. Chick ! I want to know what 
we are going to do about it ! 

Mrs. A. — Well, I don't know ; she will persist. Mary is a good girl, 
but this trash about the theatre will ruin her. 

A. — Who said a word about Mary? Give her a rest for this once; 
but this is a matter of more importance ! What shall we do about it ? 

Mrs. A. — Oh, dear, about what? 

The wmdow is suddenly lifted by Mr. Chick. 

C. — Where is Mr. Anderson? 

A. — I am here, sir. 

C. — Please come out here at once ! 

Mrs. A. — What is the matter ? 

C. — In some very mysterious manner, the cover of your sink drain 
gave in just as I was near it, and I have ruined my best pair of pants, 
besides loosing my cane. What are you going to do about it ? 

A.— Take it out of the bill, Mr. Chick. 



MARY AND HER SON. 7 

C. — That is clever; but will you come and help me find my cane? 

A. — I have dug in that sink drain before, sir, and, besides, your cane 
has been swept away by the current ere this. 

C. — That is very tart, Mr. Anderson ; but where does the current 
empty ? 

A. — A little south of the old barn, into a barrel. 

C. — Thank you ; I will look for it there, {closes window, and Mrs. A. 
hastens to open it.) 

Mrs. A. {calls) — Don't fall into the barrel, Mr. Chick, {closes window) 

A. — As I was going to remark, what shall we do about the new appli- 
cants ? 

Mrs. A. — What about them ? 

A. — I have a letter here, which is quite conclusive, {opens letter) 

Mrs. A. — What do they say ? 

A. {reads) — Your terms are favorable, and, considering everything, we 
will come in a few days. 

Mrs. A. — Didn't they sign their names ? 

A. — Oh, yes. {reads) Yours truly, William Jameson. P. S. My cousin, 
Miss Margaret Mason, will accompany me. 

Mrs. A. — Well, that is all right, the more the better. 

A. — Look at the printing on the top of the paper, {hands it to her) 

Mrs. A. — Lyceum School of Acting ! That is enough ; quite enough. 
Write them they are not wanted. Mary hears enough about actors and 
actresses, without actually seeing them. 
Enter Mrs. Chick. 

Mrs. C. — Have you seen my husband? 

Mrs. A. — You will find him back of the old barn, after his cane. 

Mrs. C. — What could he have been doing out there with his cane? 

A. — It ran away from him, I believe. 

Mrs. C. — That cane has bothered hi n ever since he bought it ; I will 
help him. {exit at right, but is stopped by Mrs. A.) 

' Mrs. A. — You will probably remember, Mrs. Chick, that that door 
does not lead out doors. 

Mrs. C. — I beg pardon, {exit at back) 

A. — She is quite polite for one so young. 

Mrs. A.— What has her age got to do about it? I wish you would 
pattern after her. * 

A. — My dear, will you please bring me paper and ink, and I will write 
those folks, {exit Mrs. A. at left, and soon returns. A. is just seated at 
table when Sarah enters. 



8 • MARY AND HER SON. 

Sarah. — Mr. Anderson ! I just heard a loud noise down at the barn ! 

Mrs. A. — What did it sound like ? 

S. — I think it was a man's voice ! I'll run down and see ! {exit) 

A. — I'll bet it was Chick {hasty exit at back) 

Mrs. A. — Oh, if he has fallen in ! {exit) 

Enter Mary. Hat on, and carrying small basket. Been " down to 
the store." Light music. 

Mary. — All gone ! Out picking strawberries, I suppose. I wish they 
would stay long enough for me to practice a little, {goes to table) Who 
has been writing? Ah ! just what I supposed, {reads) I don't think we 

can accommodate you. It is to those actors ; but they shall come, 

and we will have such nice times, {writes) There ! {puis sheet in envel- 
ope, and directs it) I think mine will reach them before papa's, and I'll 
post it this minute, {exit at back, but is stopped by Mrs. A.) 

Mrs. A. — Step one side, Mary, Mr. Chick is very sick. 

Enter C, bettveen Mrs. C. and A., who are assisting him. His 
clothes are much soiled, and he holds the cane. 

M. — Why, Mr. Chick, what is the matter? 

C. — I fell into it, and I am feeling very bad. 

M. — You look as bad as you feel. It is just like all men ; they always 
fall in with everything they meet ! 

C— But I 

Mrs. C. — Do not attempt to talk, dear ; it must pain you. I think we 
had better take him up stairs, Mr. Anderson, {they exit at left with C.) 

Mrs. A. — Such an old fool ! Go and fall into the sink drain barrel. 
He'll smell of that for a month. 

M. — Did he really fall in, mama? 

Mrs. A. — Certainly ! He'll be sick all the rest of their stay, and then 
I suppose he will want us to' take off about half for the accident. But 
what did the grocer say ? 

M. — I forgot all about it, and came back to find out what you told me. 

Mrs. A. — Mary ! I am dismayed at your conduct. Ever since you 
got this theatrical trash into your head, everything else has gone, and if 
you don't give it up, we will have a young war ! 

M. — Oh, mama, I am real sorry ; but just hear me recite that last scene 
in Romeo and Juliet. It is grand. Such 

Mrs. A. {decisive) — I'll not hear a vford of it ! You go down to the 
store and tell Mr. Neehighmer that that last barrel of crackers was wormy, 
and I want him to take them away ! 



MARY AND HER SON. 9 

M. — Yes, mama ; but I do love Shakespeare and the theatre, {exit) 

Mrs. A. — I hope I am dead before she marries him. If my prayers 
are of any avail, the theatres will not last much longer. 
Enter Sarah. 

S. — -What is the matter with the house ? 

Mrs. A. — What do you mean ? 

S. — Why, the hall smells very queer ; I thought the chimney might be 
leaking. 

Mrs. A. — Oh, no, I think not ; but 

Enter A. Does not notice Sarah. 

A. — Just our luck ! Isabel, just as sure as we start on the road to 
good fortune somebody has to fall in our way. He already says he will 
sue for damages. 

S. — What has happened now? ' 

Mrs. A. — Why, Mr. Chick has fallen into the sink drain barrel. 

S.— Oh ! Oh ! (exit hurriedly) 

A. — Why didn't you tell her not to say a word about it. The whole 
town will be laughing at us before morning, and we shall loose all our 
trade. 

Mrs. A. — Never fear ; he will be all right soon. 

Enter Sarah, flourishing large bunch of rags, which are smouldering. 

Mrs. A. — What are you doing now ? 

S. — I don't want to catch the cholera, and I'm not going to, either ; 
that is, if these rags hold out ! 
Enter Mrs. C. 

Mrs. C. — Have you some cast-steel soap and a little borax? I think 
Mr. C. had better take a bath. (S. shakes rags very hard.) 

Mrs. A. — Certainly. You wait a moment and I will get them, (exit) 

A. — Is he any better? 

Mrs. C. — I hardly know what to say. He thinks he may feel better 
after a bath. 

A. — I certainly hope so. 

S. (to Mrs. C.) — I think you had better take these rags, and carry 
them up stairs. Should you want more, call, (hands them to Mrs. C.) 

Mrs. C. — What are these for? (exit A. laughing) 

S. — What for? Well ! If you want to live much longer, you let them 
burn, that is all. (exit at left, but is stopped by entrance of C. S. takes 
rags and flourishes them around him, and pushes him into the hall) 
You must not come in here for a month, (after him.) 



io MARY AND HER SON. 

Mrs. C. — I am horrified ! 

Enter Mrs. A. at right with large pail and small bundle. 

Mrs. A. — I could not find the cast-steel, but here are two gallons of* 
soft soap ; I think it will do. {hands to Mrs. C.) 

Mrs. C. — Thank you. You are very kind, (exit) 

Mrs. A. — I wonder how much longer this will last, (sits down. Knock 
at back door) Who has come now? (of ens door) 

Enter Jameson and Mason. J. carries two large valises . 

J.— I suppose you are surprised ; but the weather in the city was so 
very warm that we had to leave. 

Mar. — The thermometer went up to ioo in the shade yesterday. 

Mrs. A. — That was a shade too high. (J. drops into a chair) Are 
you sick, sir? 

J. — Only a little "tired." 

Enter A., and stumbles over valises. 

Mrs. A. — Our new arrivals, Samuel, (all bozo) 

A. — Are you the theatrical people? 

J. — We are ! and we are very proud of it. We have been in almost 
every city and town in this country, and expect soon to appear before 
the crowned heads of 

A. — You must be "'well up" in your trade, but we had about made up 
our minds not to take you. 

Mar. — Don't you like our looks? 

Mrs. A. — You are both very beautiful, but we are opposed to the 
theatre. 

J. — Don't mind that. We will 

Enter Sarah, flourishing smouldering rags. 

S. — I think I'll be obliged to do this all day. 

A. (to J. and M.) — Now that you are here, you may stay ; but it you 
say anything to my daughter about your profession, I shall have sufficient 
cause to expel you. 

Mar. — We will endeavor to obey. (M. and J. laugh.) 

Mrs. A. — Here Sarah ; take their baggage, and I will show them to 
their rooms. (S. lakes satchels, still holding rags, and exit) 

A. — Some more of our good luck. I just told Johnny Emerson that 
his aunt could come ; but where she will sleep is more than I know. 
(screams are heard in hallway. J. rushes in with valise.) 

J. — Look out, sir, this bag is on fire ! 



I War)! fo be err) <§/! cf fcss. 



y4ir. CoMlMi- >>rr!irstr'l>ii>,i funii:.'i,>l 



Words bv F. II. C, 



Music !>v Fred W. Howes. 



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MARY AND HER SON. n 

A. — How? {takes him by shoulder) 

J. {rapid) — That stupid hired girl held some burning rags near it ! 

A. {takes it) — Pull out the contents, then ! {opens satchel, and scat- 
ters contents on floor ; then opens window and throws all out.) 

J. — Here ! Here ! {attenpts to reach articles out window. 

A. — Do you suppose I want the house on fire ! {pushes J. out window 
and quickly closes it) Just our luck ! I'll see if he is killed, {exit) 
Enter Mary at left, wholly unconscious of past proceedings. 

M. — Great deal of noise, seems though. But when those theatrical 
people come we will have a nice time ; for {sings song) 

I WANT TO BE AN ACTRESS. 

I want to be an actress, 

And with the actresses stand, 
Some paint npon my forehead, 

A shield within my hand. 
There right before the audience, 

So charming and so bright, 
I'd cause the greatest commotion, 

And always be in sight. 

I never should be weary, 

Nor ever shed a tear ; 
Nor ever know a sorrow, 

Nor ever feel a fear ; 
But simple, pure and boldly 

I'd try with all. my might, 
And by ten thousand thousands 

Be praised both day and night. 

I know I'm weak and sinful, 

But mama will forgive ; 
For many little children 

Have gone away to live. 
But when I speak about it 

It almost breaks her heart, 
That I should be so naughty, 

And try to be so smart. 
Enter Margaret during singing of last stanza. 



i2 MARY AND HER SON. 

Mar. — My dear, you shall be an actress. 

M. — Who are you ? 

Mar. — -I am an actress from the city. 

M. — Are you one of those who were coming? 

Mar. — Oh, I am so glad ! We will have such nice times. You will 
tell me all about the theatre, won't you? 

Mar. — Certainly. You've got a splendid voice, and you will make an 
actress some day. 

M. — I hope I may ; but there is not much chance when you have 
folks who are all the time scolding about it. 

Mar. — We'll remove their prejudice before we go ; you may depend 
upon that. 

M. — You'll do a great thing, if you do. What part do you play? 

Mar. — They call me a soubrette. 

M. — That's the kind I'll be in the first place. 

Enter Mr. Chick. Walks slowly ; quite dejected. 

C. — Have you seen my wife? 

M. — No ! and we don't care anything about her, either ! 

C. — It is not right to speak so. But now I think of it ; is there a 
theatre in the place? 

M. — No, sir; I wish there was. 

C. — I feel as though some kind of enjoyment would do me good. 

Mar. — Then you believe in the theatre? 

C. {decisive) — Most assuredly, It is a form of innocent amusement. 
But I would like to see my wife. 

M. — Can't you sneeze without her? 

C. — You cruel little girl. I am quite strong now. 

Mar— I should think you might be almost well, after using two gal- 
lons of soft soap. 

C. — I never did 

Enter Jameson hurriedly. 

J. — Where is the boss? 

M. — Do you allude to my father? 

J. — I allude to the man who runs this place. He threw me out of 
a window. Where is he ? 

C. — Don't mind such a slight thing as that. 

J. — How would you 

Mar. — Now let us drop that subject, Mr. Jameson. This young lady 
is our landlord's daughter. 



MARY AND HER SON. 13 

J. — She must "take after" her great grandfather, then. 

M. — Are you a theatrical man? • 

J. — Yes. One of the "heavies." 

M. — Ah ! but you don't look very heavy. 

Mar. — She is going to make an actress some day. 

C. — Do not let her folks hear you say that. 

M. — Oh, say; can't we have a rehearsal? {to J.) Do you know 
Romeo and Juliet? 

J. — Perfectly. I have taken the part of Romeo many times. 

M. — Well, then, I'll take Juliet, and you two {to Mar. and C.) guard 
the doors. 

J. — What part shall we rehearse? 

Mar. — The balcony scene in the prologue is the best. 

M. — I don't know as I can do that ; but we will try. 

C. — Where is the balcony? 

M. — We will fix that, {with the assistance of J. she places a chair on 
the table) There is the balcony, Mr. Chick. 

J. {aside) — She will make an actress. 
Enter Mrs. C. All appear frightened. 

Mrs. C. {to' C.) My dear, what are you doing hear? 

C. — I am here as a "supe on guard ;" they are going to have a re- 
hearsal, my dear. 

Mrs. C. — That is splendid ; but this is no place for you ; I am afraid 
you will catch cold. 

M.— Don't take him away, Mrs. Chick ; but you stay too, and guard 
that door, {points to left) 

Mrs. C. — Well ; you hurry and I will, {takes position at door. C. and 
Mar. the same at back and right doors) 

J. {assists M. to chair on table) — Are you ready? I enter. 

M. — Come Romeo ! {see dialogue) 

Enter Mr. A. at one door and Mrs. A. at another, pushing over 
Mr. C. and Mar. Mary jumps from table. Some confusion. 

A. {excited) — What means this? 

Mrs. A. — What can it mean? 

J. — We were playing "hunt the thimble," sir. 

M. — -That was all, papa. 

Mrs. A. — Did you expect to find it on the table ? 
A. — /am inclined to think that you all were engaged in some theatri- 
cal tirade. 



i 4 MARY AND HER SON. 

Mrs. C. — Supposing; we were? 

Mrs. A. — It is an outrage, that is all ! s 

Mar.— Now see here ! Your daughter has every stamp of a true 
actress, and you should cultivate this. 

A. — Do you mean to insult us? 

M. — No, they don't ; and they are just as good as they can be. 

Mrs. A. — You all must leave to-morrow ! 

J. — We have paid our bills, and shall stay until the specified time 
{takes a knife from table), and if we can give your daughter any ideas 
in the theatrical line, she shall have it free ! (A. takes a knife, and they 
fence. All frightened, and exit but M.) 
Enter Parson Deeproot at back. 

Par. {surprised) — Ah, my children ! what is the matter? 

A. {they stop) — Oh, nothing, kind sir. 

M. — He was mad, and just because we were rehearsing. 

A. — Yes, and for the theatre ! 

Par. — That was bad, very bad. Why, I had rather be in the darkest 
room in perdition, than in a theatre. 

J. — Time will tell, {exit M . and J.) ' 

A. — You have heard a little concerning your visit. My daughter has 
got it into her head that there is no place like a theatre. I wish you 
would talk with her about it. 

Par. — I shall be glad to free her mind of such ruinous ideas. 

A. — You will have our blessing if you can. I will call her. {exit) 

Par. — It is strange how people will allow the bad to control them. 
Enter Mary. 

M. — Do you want to see me ? 

Par. — I do. Your father tells me you love the theatre, {sits down) 

M. — He was correct, {sits in //is lap) Oh, Romeo ! 

Par. — Ah ! Did you know that the theatre was one of the doors to hell ? 

M. — No, sir ! and I don't believe the theatre has any more to do with 
hell than you do. 

Par. — Now let me advise you as to one thing, for you are young yet. 
Anything that keeps one's mind away from that which is pure and holy, 
is not healthy for their soul's eternal welfare. 

M. — That may be so ; but I am sure you can find as much of it in 
your church as in the theatre. Say, Mr. Deeproot, did you ever go to 
a theatre? 

Par. — Well — hem — I — I think I did once ; many years ago ; and I 
have always been sorry for it. But why did you ask ? 



MARY AND HER SON. 15 

M. — You wouldn't look so old and wrinkled if you had some enjoy- 
ment once in a while. I believe, and I know that a person can be good 
and go to the theatre, too. Mr. Deeproot, the managers have to suit the 
people who do go, and then such folks as you stay away, and find fault 
because the plays are not "pure and holy." 

Par. — In a measure you are correct ; and you talk like a person fully 
twice your age. But, my dear child, I am very, very sorry for you. 

Enter Sarah, cautiously, and notices M. in Parson's lap, exits sud- 
denly, and then notifies others, who "peek in " at window and doors. 

M. — If I should ever appear in a theatre as an actress, would you come 
and see me ? 

Par. — Well, that depends. Under those circumstances I should be 
tempted. But I trust that will never happen. I have a little book here 
{takes book from his pocket) which I want you to read. It will certainly 
do you good, (hands it to her) 

M. — Thank you ; I shall prize it for the giver's sake. 

Par. — Now promise me 

Enter A. M. rises quickly. 

A. — You have had a nice time, I should judge ? 

M.— Of course we did ; ministers always have a nice time when they 
go calling — so they say. 

Par. {aside to A.) — You have a very fine daughter. She will give up 
the theatre now, I am quite sure. (M. opens book and reads.) 

M. (aside) — I guess he made a mistake. This book is a lecture to 
old men. 

A. — I am very thankful if you have influenced her in the right direc- 
tion, {they exit arm in arm.) 
Enter J. cautiously. 

J. — Are you alone? 

M. — Yes ; but what now ? Another rehearsal ? 

J. — No ; but a great plan. I can get you a place in my company, if 
you want it. 

M. — I would like the chance ; but the folks would never let me go. 
The minister gave me a lecture about it just now. 

J. — He is of no account. You listen to the plan. Mr. and Mrs. 
Chick live in Boston. To-day your folks are going to send a large box 
to the heathen, and the plan is for you to get into the box ; we will 
change the label, and in a short time you will be in Mr. Chick's house ; 
from thence to the theatre, and from there to fame. Mr. Chick and his 



1 6 MARY AND HER SON. 

wife will go on the same train. All you want to do is to be around when 
the box is packed. 

M. — That will be a jolly joke on the folks. I'll be around, {exit) 

J. — I'll pay him for his insult ! 

Enter A. and Par. carrying large box, followed by Mrs. A. J. exit.) 

Par.— Can you fill that ? 

Mrs. A. — Certainly. 

Par. — How glad the heathen will be. {Mrs. A. gets books, etc., while 
others bring all kinds of articles, which are packed by A. and Par. 

A. {box full) — If you will assist me, Mr. Deeproot, we will saw some 
boards for a cover ; forgot that, {they exit) 

Mrs. A. — I think we are doing our share. 

M. — Of course we are. Somebody will jump with joy when it is opened. 

Mrs A. — That makes me think ; they will want some nails, {exit) 

J. — Now is our chance, {with help of others J. takes out about half 
cotents of box, and Alary jumps in.) 

M. — I will be an actress ! {she is covered up, and Mr. C. bores some 
holes in box with auger. 

Enter A. and Par. with boards, followed by Mrs. A. with hammer 
and nails. Boards are quickly nailed on.) 
Enter Sarah. 

S. — The expressman has called for the box. 

A. — It is all ready. (A., Par. and J. carry box out. C. goes to help, 
but is pulled back by his wife.) 

Mrs. C. — You will strain yourself. 

Enter Mrs. Millbury, carrying large carpet bag. This part can 
be taken by Sarah. 

Mrs. M. — Is Mrs. Anderson about? 

Mrs. A. — I am that person, {advances) 

Mrs. M. — My nephew, Johnny Emerson, told me that you wanted 
another boarder. I am feeling quite sick, will you show me to my room ? 

Mrs. A. — We shall be pleased to accommodate you ; this way. {exit) 

C. — The plan has worked well so far. 

Mrs. C. — I had no idea she would be so brave. 

Mar. — She will make an actress. 

Enter Mrs. A. from left, and A. from back. 

Mrs. A. — Some one go for the doctor, quick ! 

A.— What is " 



MARY AND HER SON. 17 

Mrs. A. — No matter about what ; but go ! 

A. — The doctor just rode by, I will hail him ! {exit) 

Mrs. A. — That woman is very sick. Just our luck. 

C. — Can I be of any help ? I 

Enter Doctor and A. Doctor can be taken by J.) 

Mrs. A. — This way, doctor, {they exit at left.) 

A. — I wonder if Mary is sick. 

Mar. — I hope not, sir. I think it is the new arrival. 

A. — Who now? 

Enter Doctor quickly. 

D. — Got a red flag? 

A.— What for? 

D. — That woman has got the small pox ! {all horrified.') 

A. — No ! but take this {takes red shirt from drawer). Just our luck ! 
Enter Mrs. A., crying. 

Mrs A. {to A.) — Read that. I have just found it in Mary's room. 
{hands him a note) Oh, dear ! Oh ! 

A. {reads) — Papa and mama; I have gone away to be an actress. 
Will come home when I have learned how. Mary, {throws it down.) 
Some more of our luck ; but we must find her ! {Much confusion. D. 
attempts to hang out flag, etc.) 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



Act II. 



Secne I. JENNING'S OFFICE. Have half of stage as 
office. Door in back centre, where all entrances and exits are made, 
lable in centre of room, beside which J. is seated, looking over lot of 
letters. Show bills on walls, and as good representation of a manager's 
office as possible. 

Jen. — This world is not very enjoyable to us managers. Here is this, 
that and the other thing to attend to, and all at the same time {opens a 
letter and reads). Dear sir, I have been with all the principal com- 
panies in the country, and am a first-class actor in every line. Would 

like a leading position in Yes, I suppose he would (tabes up 

another, and reads). If you want a rip tarrier, regular thunder breaker 
for a heavy man. I am the person for you. Have been in all the leading 
tragedies of the day, but am out of any just now. I think he will stay 
out for a while (reads another). Sir, I think I have unbounded talent 
for the dramatic profession. Ma says that I am one the few, and all the 
people in our town are wild over me. Do give me a chance. I think it 
will be a game of chance with her. The rest are probably of the same 
sort, and I will not bother reading them now (Enter Agent with Dis- 
enfecting Door Mat ////O'er his arm. This character can be take// by 
Jameson, having become "reduced" from lack of stage work. Mat is 
supposed to give out some odor), but I must write that letter to John, or 
he will cancel the date (smells Mat, and puts hand to his nose). What 
is that I smell ? It is horrible. I wonder if that poison killed those rats? 
(notices J.) Who are you? Are you the cause of all this? 
J. — I expect, sir, that I am. I wish to show it to you. 
Jen. — I know all about it. Don't bother me. (should keep hold of his 
nose during all conversation^) 

J. — No you don't. You never saw one before. I am the only agent 
in the world with them, sir. 

Jen. — -1 have smelt them, and that is enough. You are probably the 
last agent. 

J. — They will last a life time, I can assure you. The simplest thing 



MARY AND HER SON. 19 

out. You place them at your door, and the odor kills any disease that 
may be lurking around. 

Jen. — How about the occupants of the house ? Does it also kill them ? 

J. — It prolongs their life. Why, the other day I called at a house 
where a man was dying ; I left a Mat, and that man, sir, is alive and well. 

Jen. — I suppose you lay it all to the Mat ? 

J. — Certainly ; and those people have ordered six more. 

Jen. — What a smelling place that must be. No trouble to find it, I'll 
warrant. But does the smell last forever? 

J.— Only a week at a time. 

Jen.- — So much in its favor. 

J — But 1 have here two bottles {hikes tivo bottles from satchel) which 
are rubbed into the Mat every Sunday morning, and it is kept fresh all 
the time. It is thought best to carry them in your coat pocket. 

Jen. — Why? 

J. — So that you will not forget to supply it. I might say that they are 
composed of equal parts of glycerine, acid phosphate, and a chemical 
heretofore unknown as a disenfecting agent. 

Jen. — But suppose they get broken? 

J. — For the extra sum of five dollars I give you a life policy in the 
Actor's Fund ; which, of course, makes it pleasant for the family. 

Jen. — Correct; but has a man got to go around holding his nose all 
the time? The perfume is not pleasant. 

J. — Only until you get used to it ; but I have some very ingenious nose 
covers to alleviate that, (apply s them to J's nose. Something to cover 
end of nose) 

Jen. — That is better. Do all these things go with the Mat? 

J. — They do ; and I trust you will buy one. I am needy. 

Jen. — What is the cost? 

J. — Only fourteen dollars, including the policy. 

Jen. — You may leave one ; it possibly is a good thing. (J. lays Mat 
on table, and puts bottles in pockets in tail of his coat) You call any time 
next week, and if I am alive, you can collect the bill. 

J. — That is very kind of you, sir; but I am owing a little bill, and if 
you can give me one dollar now, I shall be much relieved. 

Jen. — I guess I can, though I am somewhat "pressed" myself. 

J. — Thank you sir, and when I call, I hope to find you much improved. 
Good day. (exit) 

Jen. — Made a fool of myself once more; but it may do some good. 
(spreads Mat before door) Now I will attend to that letter, (writes) 



20 MARY AND HER SON. 

Enter J. softly. Taps Jen. on shoulder. 

Jen. — What in the name of common sense are you here again for? 

J. — Excuse me, but I forgot to state that you must be somewhat care- 
ful and not let the liquid spill, as it contains a small proportion of blue 
vitrol ; but there is no danger if you are careful, and follow directions. 

Jen. — Are there any more? 

J. — The last completes the list. Good day. {exit) 

Jen. — I never knew an agent who was a gent, {resumes writing) 
Enter Margaret, also "reduced" Taps Jen. on shoulder, y 

Jen. — If you call again, I'll throw you, Mat and all, into the street. 
My time is valuable, sir ! 

Mar. — I never was here before. 

Jen. {looks up) — I beg your pardon. 

Mar. — Are you a physician ? 

Jen. — Why do you ask such a queer question? 

Mar. — I though it smelled rather drugy, that is all. 

Jen. — I have just invested in a new invention. Take a seat, please. 

Mar. — Thanks. I guess you mean that everybody shall know it. But 
I called to see if I could secure a position in any of your companies. 

Jen. — What parts have you taken? 

Mar. — I have been in "Lights of London," " Bridge of Sighs," "We, 
Us & Co.," "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "Tin Soldier," "Peck's Bad Boy," 
"Bandit King," "Rag 

Jen. — That will do. What capacity? 

Mar. — Leading lady, of course. 

Jen. — 1 have not made up all my companies yet. You call again, and 
there may be a place. 

Mar. — You should hear me give Shakespeare, sir. {rises and com- 
mences before Jen. has time to stop her.) 

To be or not to be ; that is the question, 

Said Hamlet in a fit of commiseration. 

Whether it is better in the mind to suffer, 

Or to sling arrows at one another ; 

And if they oppose, end them. To die ; to sleep 

No more ; and by a sleep to say we end 

The head ache, and the thousand natural shocks 

We actresses are heir to. 'Tis an ending 

Devoutly to be wished. To 



MARY AND HER SON. 21 

Jen. {jumps up) — You are correct. Very devoutly I wish you to end. 
The idea of murdering the sacred bard's best composition in this man- 
ner, {emphasizes by waving hands, and thus, apparently, upsets one of 
the bottles in his pocket. Rubs his leg.) 

Mar. — Why, sir, what is the matter? Shall I call help? 

Jen. — No! No! but — but — I — I — do— do— believe — I'm being — 
being — being — eaten up ! 

Mar. {aside) — Something terrible must be the matter with him. 

Jen.— What shall I do ? I 

Mar. — What kind of a pain is it, sir? 

Jen. — Oh! Oh! {rushes around) 

Mar. — 1 do believe he has a lit. I will call the police, {exits) 

Jen. — Here ! Here ! {rushes out, and encounters J. Much confu- 
sion. Change to SCENE II.) 



Scene II. MARY'S HEADQUARTERS IN BOSTON. Other 
half of stage as room nicely arranged. Table in centre. M. seated 
beside table. 

M. — "Nothing succeeds like success." Why, all Boston is wild over 
me. My photos command the highest price. I don't know what I 
shall do ; but I have done one thing, I am an actress, and am able to 
command the highest salary. 

Enter Lizzie, Mary's maid. This part can be taken by Sarah. 
Carries large book. 

M. — What now, Lizzie? 

L. — Here is a book that a man left for you. {hands it to M.) 

M. {opons book and reads) — A treatise on love {exit L.). Best re- 
gards of one who adores you {throws it on floor). I would like to see 
the sender. The idea, that I don't know how to love. 
Enter L. carrying large band box. 

L. — Another tribute for you. {M. opens box and takes out very large 
hat.) 

M. — Ah ! but it is much too large for me. You try it on {places it on 
Us head, and it "nearly covers her up"). 

L. {takes it off) — Don't smother me. Somebody thought you had a 
big head, {exit) 

M.: — It can be used for something {notices note inside and reads). 
For you, dear Miss Anderson. From one of your male admirers. About 
as near as a man can guess as to size. 



22 MARY AND HER SON. 

Enter L., earring an oblong basket. 

L. — Look at it, quick ! {light music) 

M. {pulls back covering, and discovers the Son, a "make-believe" 
baby. Much astonished.) — I do declare ! This beats all ! A very hand- 
some baby, and fast asleep. The dear little thing. But where did you 
find it ? 

L. — It was at our entrance ; so it must be for you. 

M. — That cannot be. 

L. — But there is a note inside. 

M. (reads note) — Unto us was born a son, and as we are too poor 
to bring him up. we give him to you, and please do make a great actor 
of him. Well ! But I will take care of him, and perhaps do some good. 
Take the little darling into the boudoir, and give him a bath, and I will 
order a cradle, and then we will commence "baby farming." But, Liz- 
zie, if anything else comes for me, throw it into the street. (Exit L.) 
If this is going to lie the way all the time, the sooner the engagement 
ends, the better. I suppose new trials have commenced, but one must 
do all the good they can, even if they are a maiden, — and that makes 
me think of a song I used to sing. (Sings song. Music.) 

MAIDEN LIFE'S A BLESSING. 

Don't married, maiden's dear, married life's distressing ; 
Bartners ne'er your heart will cheer ; maiden life's a blessing. 
Look at those who always wed ; dull and mopish oft they be. 
Were they not to the altar led, quite a different life they'd see. 

Chorus. — Don't get married, maidens dear, 
Married life's distressing. 
Bartners ne'er your heart will cheer, 
Maiden life's a blessing. 

What makes home a happy place ; not great wealth or treasures, 
But bright features where you trace one's delightful pleasures. 
So, dear girls, take heed, I pray ; if you're asked to choose a mate, 
Take a more convenient day ; do not change your happy state. 

Chorus. 

Don't get married, maiden's dear ; but stay long in market. 
You'll get chances every day, and the men remark it. 
When an offer comes along, don't accept it — if you're wise, — 
In the heart his love bird's song, his true meaning will disguise. 

Chorus. 
Enter Lizzie. 



y leader) JJijc's a jSlfcssirjef , 

Air. Cmupkh' >nTliestr>itior, n>n<i*!t>'<i 

Words by F. H. C, Music by Fred W. Howes. 



f T". 



MARY AND HER SON. 23 

L. — The soap is all gone, and the little imp is awful, awful dirty. 

M. — I will order some — and a cradle too. ( Writes order and hands to 
L. Knock at door.) 

M. — Who can it be ? Come in. 

Enter Jameson. Rough appearance. L. attemptz to stop him. 

M. — What are you doing, Lizzie ? 

L. — You said, if anything else came for you, to throw it out ! 

J. — Stop ! I'm no tramp ! 

M. {Pushes L. one side) — Now this will never do, Lizzie. You at- 
tend to sonnie, and I will take care of this one. {Exits L.) 

J. — I beg your pardon but I was never treated so roughly. 

M. — That is singular, indeed. But what can I do for you? 

J. — You are Miss Anderson, I believe. 

M. — I am. {Loud cry is heard from Sonnie.) 

J. — Miss Anderson ? 

M. — I said yes. 

J. {Cries of S.) — There is no doubt about your being the Miss An- 
derson. Boston is now adoring, as the matter I wish to speak about is 
strictly confidential. 

M. {indignant) — Young man, please explain your business. I am no 
other. Ere quent cries from S. during all conversation. 

J. — You, doubtless, remember the day you decided to adopt the stage 
as your profession ; and the manner you left your father's roof? 

M. — I have a slight recollection of the event. 

J. — Do you also remember the person who gave you the advice, and 
helped you to depart ? 

M. — I think there was an actor and actress who were very kind to me. 

J. — If you will believe me, I am that actor (or was), and as I am hav- 
ing hard luck just now, can you not, for past remembrance's sake, help 
me to a position ? 

M. — I am very glad to meet you again, and shall be glad to assist you . 
Are you still in the profession? 

J. — I am most of the time, but since the "Bridge of Sighs Company" 
stranded I have been obliged to eke out a living in various ways outside 
of the profession. 

M. — I am very sorry. I am thinking of an European tour, and if I 
come to terms with my manager, shall be able to help you. You call to- 
morrow, please {knock at door) . Step into that room {points to right, 
and J. exits hurriedly) . Come in. 



24 MARY AND HER SON. 

Enter Jennings. Tired appearance. Wears covering over nose, 
not being aware of its presence. 

M. — Ah ! I thought you would never come. 

Jen. — Well, to tell the truth, I was unavoidably detained (takes a seat) , 
and you must pardon me. What is that I hear? 

M. — Why, only a darling little son somebody left me. I will show him 
to you when he is dressed. He is such a dear. But how about the 
tour? 

Jen. — As to the tour, I am a little in doubt. 

M. — In doubt ! 

Jen. — Yes. But only as regards how the English people will receive 
you. They are very skeptical about new comers. 

M. — We will fix them ; but how about the terms? 

Jen. — If these can be amicably arranged, we will try the experiment. 
I must ask you to be as liberal as possible. 

M. — I have always been to you. You are the best manager I know. 

Jen.— I will give you a full thousand a night, and furnish everything. 

M. —A thousand ! Why, that will not pay my hotel expenses. You 
cannot be in your right mind. 

Jen. — My mind is all right; but I w;is looking to my purse. I may 
have been hasty. Say we make it an even two thousand? 

M. — Now you just think of the perfect fervor I will create; and a 
simple two thousand would be no where with those gay English people. 
Two thousand would surely "come short." 

Jen. (aside) — I think I will too; but supposing they fail to "catch 
on," where will I be? 

M. — That will never happen. You want to make too much off of me. 

Jen. — No ; but I want to be safe. If you feel real bad, I will make it 
an odd three thousand. 

M. — Well, now, that is more like it (jumps into his lap, much to his 
astonishment) ; but be a good man, and do say four thousand. 

Jen. (looks disappointed) — Well, under the circumstances, I suppose 
I must say agreed. 

M. — I will never forget this (rises). But how about my support? 

Jen. — Mine feels rather weak. 
Enter Jameson. 

J. — Excuse me for listening ; but I just heard the word "support," a 

Jen.— You ! You leave this place at once (rises). You've nearly 
ruined me already. (Attempts to put J. out.) 



MARY AND HER SON. 25 

M. — Gentlemen ! What does this mean ? 

Jen. {stops) — He nearly killed me with his fraud of a mat I 

J. — No such thing 1 and I can prove it by his nose. 

M. — I was wondering about that. {Jen. pulls covering off.) 

Jen. {indignant) — I insist upon having nothing to do with him I 

M. — He is a personal frrend of mine, and you must give him a "place." 

Jen. — Oh 1 Certainly 1 Anything you think best. 

J. {ridicule) — So very kind of you sir. How can I repay thee? 

M. — We will do our best for you, Mr. Jameson. 

J. — Many thanks. {Exits at left, but not noticed by M.) 

M. — We will give him some juvenile lead. 

Jen. — Oh, yes ; he may be useful. {Loud knock at door.) 

M. — Another friend I suppose. Come in. 

The door is pushed part way open, and a very rough person pokes in 
his head. This part can be taken by Chick. 

M. — What do you want ? 

C. — Does Miss Anderson live here? 

M. — She does. 

C. — Is she around ? 

M.— Here. 

C. — All right. {Steps back, ami pulls in a cradle for S.) 

M. — Oh I How handsome. 

C. — Don't speak of me in that light. I am sensitive. 

M. — I referred, sir, to the cradle. 

C. — I begs your pardon ; and may the little darling be an honor to its 
papa and mama. {Exit) 

M. — This will be so nice for the dear child. Bring {calls) him in I 
Enter Lizzie, holding J. by one ear. 

L. — Here he is> and I am glad you called 

M. — I called for Sonnie ; but how did this one happen in there ? 

L. — I will never tell. 

J. — Excuse me, but I got the wrong door, and liked the company so 
well, that I stayed. {Exit L.) 

Jen. — Very natural for one so young. 

J. — Perhaps you mean to infer that you would do the same, though 
you are so old. {Exit hurriedly.) 
Enter L. with S. 

L. — Here he is. 

M. {takes him) — The dear. Just see his new cradle. 



26 MARY AND HER SON. 

L. — Is n't that a beauty. 

M. — Is n't he a beauty, Mr. Jennings? 

Jen. — You ought to be proud. 

M. — We are ; and he will make an actor some day. (Knock at door.) 
Another cradle, perhaps. Come in. 
Enter J. with Margaret. 

J. — Excuse me for interfering again ; but I met my old friend here, 
Miss Mason, and she is quite desirous of seeing you. 

M. — Not the Miss Mason that I met years ago ? 

Mar. — The same. {They embrace.) 

Jen. (aside) — Suppose she will want a position. 

Mar. (to M.) — I am still in the profession; but out of an engage- 
ment just now. Have you any to offer? 

M. — I think so. Remember her, Mr. Jennings. 

Jen. (Mar. and Jen. surprised) — She must not take any Shakespearean 
parts. 

M.— Why? 

Jen. — I don't think her figure is perfect enough. 

M. — We will not enter into particulars now. Have (to Mar.) you 
seen the baby? (Goes to cradle) 

Mar. — Oh, no ! Such a dear i I do so love babies \ 

Jen. — We will start for London in about a month, and I want you all 
to be on hand. 

M. — Don't you fear about us. When we return we will bring a goodly 
number of English pounds. 

Jen. (rubs his leg) — Oh J Oh ! 

J. — What is the matter? 

Jen. — You ask ] You — are— the — cause ! (They tussle.) 

Mvr. — He's got that fit again J 

M.— Police ! Police ! 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



Act III 



Scene I.— PETTICOAT LANE, LONDON. Ordinary 
street set. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson's first visit to London; they having 
lost their way. 

A. — I am utterly confused. Everything is turned round ; and then to 
think that I should leave our guide book at the House. Why, every step 
we take may lead us into the lair of an assassin, or the clutches of a 
gen d'arme. 

Mrs. A. — Never fear, Samuel ; you know we have had good luck so 
far, and I enjoy some excitement. 

A. — You are just like all the rest of the women ; the excitement is all 
right as long as you are thinking about it. If we never get home, don't 
blame me. You would come this way. 

Mrs. A. — I should think you was a little child, instead of an over- 
grown man. 

A. — Just our luck to have something happen ; but {looks out) here 
comes an old man ; perhaps he can tell us where we are. 

Mrs. A. {frightened) — An old man? Oh! {starts off) 

A. {slops her) — I told you so. They say that the most harmless 
people in London are the old men ; and you are frightened at the first 
one we meet. Here he comes. 

Enter Parson Deeproot. Someivhat disguised. 

Par. — Good morning, good people. 

A. — The same to you, sir. Are you a resident of this section ? 

Par.— Do I look like it ? 

Mrs. A. — I do not think you look much better than the surroundings. 

Par. — My friends, this locality is Petticoat Lane, and 

Mrs. A. — I suppose, then, that all those beautiful English petticoats 
come from this place ? Do show us the factory. 

Par. — I know of no such industry here. This locality is really the 
centre of the Jewish population of London, and as I am a minister, I 



28 MARY AND HER SON. 

have a higher motive than investigating their industries. 

Mrs. A. — Excuse me ; but can you guide us to the Lyceum theatre? 

A. — Here is a guinea if you will get us out of this place. 

Par. — Who do you wish to see at the theatre? 

Mrs. A. — Our daughter ; and we are proud to remark it. {Par. much 
surprised.') 

A. — No joking. It is the truth, and nothing but the truth. 

Par. — Are you, then, of Sacramento, and the parents of this illustrious 
artist ? 

Mrs. A. — If you have any pity for us, please show us to the theatre. 

Par. — I shall be pleased to do so. Do you remember the Reverened 
Mr. Deeproot? 

Mrs. A. — We shall never forget him ; good old soul. He was perse- 
cuted by some of our members, and left us very suddenly. 

A. — What do you know about him ? 

Par. — Seeing you believe in his innocense, I will make known my 
identity. You are in the presence of your for former spiritual adviser. 

A. {/hey shake) — We are overjoyed to meet you; but how changed 
you 

Mrs. A. — We knew you would "turn up" sometime ; though we never 
supposed 

A. — Allow me to speak now. Time and care have told on you. 

Par. — I think likely ; though not so much as that scandal. Do not, 
I beseech you, mention it hereabouts. We must now hasten to the 
Lyceum {They all exit. Change to SCENE II.). 



Scene II.— MARY'S HEADQUARTERS IN LONDON. Sitting 
room neatly {if possible very luxurious) arranged. 

Enter Lizzie with Sonnie, and places him in cradle. 

L. — Don't you wake for one week. That child is more bother than 
all the rest of my work. I never would have hired out to Miss Ander- 
son if I had known this was to be a part of my work {knock at door. L. 
starts to exit). I will see who it is. Come in. 

Enter Charlie Gladstun. Very polite and precise. Note. As it 
is about impossible to correctly represent in print the English dialect, this 
part and that of Bradlaw's should be given with special cai-e as to the 
dropping of the letter h, and use of u, which in most cases is short. 

Ch. — Miss Anderson, I presume? (Z. bows.) 

L. — You will please state your business, sir. 



MARY AND HER SON. 29 

Ch. — You will pardon my calling at this hour, but I was quite desirous 
of meeting in private the person who is creating such a fervor in this city. 

L. — It is very thoughtful and kind of you. 

Ch. — I always try to be kind to such popular people as yourself ; but 
perhaps you would like to know more about myself. I am the only son 
of my father, who is really at the head of this nation in greatness, and is 
great man. 

L. — That is nice. What kind of grates does he make ? 

Ch. — What do you mean? 

L. — You said your father was a grate man, and if manufactures a new 
kind, perhaps we might buy one. 

Ch. — It is just like you Americans to be all the time joking. The 
real reason, however, that I called was to invite you to a drive with the 
Queen and myself. 

L. — I shall be delighted to go ; and may I bring baby {takes up S.) ? 

Ch. — That yours? Another (aside) joke I suppose. 

L. — Isn't he a darling ? 

Ch. — Ah ! Certainly ; amd looks just like you. 

L. — You must be "googled eyed;" though I suppose you noblemen 
are not wanting in anything. 

Ch. — I suppose we are above the common herd. I am very, very 
sorry, Miss Anderson, but I must leave you now. I will call at five 
o'clock (exits towing low) . 

L. — I call this good luck. I'll have a ride with Her Royal Highness, 
and, if possible, get married to that fellow, and live in style all the rest of 
my life (knock at door) . Probably he has forgotten something. Come. 
Enter John Bradlaw. Very stylish. 

B. — Miss Anderson, I trust (L. boivs) ? Allow me to remark that I 
consider it a great favor to be in your presence. 

L. — Why so? I'm nothing more than human. 

B. — Whenever a person comes into our midst who can show us such 
great dramatic genius as you possess, we English people call it extraordi- 
nary. 

L. — Why do you think that ? 

B. — Because " It's English, you know." 

L. — I do know that London is the queerest place I ever visited. 

B. — You will change your mind when you become acquainted with 
some of her young men. 

L. — Are you a good specimen? 



3 o MARY AND HER SON. 

B. — I am proud to be called such, and especially so by you. My 
father holds an important place in this nation, and our family is tinged 
with Royal blood. 

L. — They must look funny. 

B.— Why ? 

L. — I was wondering whether this Royal blood was different from the 
usual kind. 

B. — You are certainly quite an adept at joking ; but allow me to speak 
of another subject which is nearer my heart. 

L. — What do you mean, sir? 

B. — Why, that mysterious and spontaneous feeling which we have for 
one another, and which we call love. 

L. — You completely upset me. 

B. — I have had as many as twenty ladies tell me the same thing ; but, 
do say, is there the least 'ope for me ? 

L. — What do you want of soap ? 

B. — I said 'ope, 'ope ; and may I have it {/alls on his knees, and 
holds out his hands, beseechingly) ? 

L. — Certainly {places S. on his arms and suddenly exits) 
Enter Mary. 

M. {throws down bundles) — Here sir ! What are you doing with my 
child ? 

B. — I — I was only — asking her a question, and — 

M. — You were trying to kidnap my child, you wretch ! 

B. — Do you call me that ? It is an insult to our family ! 

M. — Leave this room at once, sir ! 

B.— Who are you ? 

M. — That does not matter ! Will you go? 

B. — To avoid confusion I will ; but you will hear from me again {exit) . 

M. — Since coming here I have had more exploits than you could 
"shake a stick at ;" but this one is the worst. Come home and find a 
man holding that darling child. 
Enter Lizzie. 

L. — Why! You here ! Has he gone? 

M. — Has who gone ? 
L. — My lover. 

M. — Your lover? I found a man in the act of kidnapping Sonnie. 
L. — It was only a joke. He thought you was at home, and tried to 
make love to me. He got on his knees and held out his hands as if he 
wanted something, and for fun I arave him the darling. 



MARY AND HER SON. 31 

M. — "Not so bad as I thought. 

L. — There was one other ; and he was real nice. 

M. — Did he love ? 

L. — Oh, yes ; but the best of all, he invited me to a ride with the 
Queen. 

M. — I should say you are having all the fun. You must be careful, 
however; these Englishmen are very shy. 

L. — Would you care if I married him ? 

M. — That depends. If he is of a " high family" you had better se- 
cure him. 

L. — He said his name was Charlie Gladstun. 

M. — You very, very lucky. 

L. — Does he amount to much ? 

M. — You do your best ; that is all. 

L. — I think I am in a fair way of becoming a Gladstun. 

M. — I am glad for you {knock at door) . Come in. 
Enter Bradlaw. Excited. 

B. {to L.) — Miss Anderson, I want an explanation of the insult you 
heaped upon me. This lady {to M.) called me a "wretch," and other 
hard words, because I accidently held that child. I want satisfaction. 

M. — You shall have it. Come Lizzie (Z. and M. '"'•put him out." 
Confusion. Change to SCENE III.) . 



Scene III. GREEN ROOM, LYCEUM THEATRE. Trunks, 
portions of scenery, etc., etc., '•'■standing around." 

Enter Par., slyly. 

Par. — Not a soul around. I guess we are early {beckons off). 
Enter Mr. and Mrs. A. 

A. — What kind of a room did you call this ? 

Par. — The green room. 

Mrs. A. — Why did they name it after such a color? Don't look very 
green. 

Par. — Far from that. This room is the one in which all novices are 
allowed to practice, and they have correctly named it a green room. As 
we are early, I propose that we give your daughter a pleasant surprise. 

A. — Guess she will think it pretty green of us ; but 

Mrs. A. — Now, Samuel, you are too old to attempt joking, and you 
fail every time. Listen to his plan. 



32 MARY AND HER SON. 

Par. — I propose that we hide behind some of these articles, and when 
a good chance offers "pop out." 

A.— That is grand, and will work nicely if we don't get "popped" 
before we "pop out." 

Mrs. A. — Now Samuel, you'll 

Enter Bradlaw. Par., A. and Mrs. A. dodge behind scenery. 

B. — I wonder if the manager is about? I'll pay her for insulting me. 

Enter Jennings from light, which is supposed to be the entrance 
and exit to ideal stage. Does not notice B. 

Jen. — If there ever was a curse, it is the habit of intemperance, 
and especially so to our profession. There is Jack, the best in his line, 
and I have just learned that he is on a "tantrum." That means he can- 
not appear this week, and my great plan is "dished." 

B. — Say. sir, I would be pleased to take Jack's place. 

Jen. — Who are you ? 

B. — It would take about six months to give you a concise history of 
our family. 

Jen. — Are you an actor? 

B. — That depends how you construe the term ; though I think I have 
enough of the " wherewithall " to do anything you desire. 

Jen. — That's encouraging Can you croak? 

B. — That depends upon where you put me. 

Jen. — Well ; I have a great plan, and I think it will make a hit. We 
are to put on Macbeth in an original manner, and the plan is to have a 
large frog that is a good "sounder" in the combats cene. His croaking 
will be a great incentive to Macbeth and Macduff. 

B. — Very original, surely ; and I shall be pleased to essay the frog. 

Jen. — Young man, if you do it to perfection, I promise you rich re- 
wards. This way and prepare for rehearsal. 

B. {aside) — If this frog business don't entirely upset Miss Anderson, 
I'm no kind of a frog {they exit at right). 

A., Par. and Mrs. A. come from hiding places. 

Par. — The idea ! A frog as an incentive in a combat. If I was Mac- 
duff that frog would get all the hitting. 

Mrs. A. — He ought to have one of our Sacramento frogs ; they are 
incentive enough for anybody. 

A. — Those who live in the Block, or that family down 

Mrs. A. — You know less every day. 



Yb osc Splerjdid Erjglistjrrjcr). 

Air. Complete orchestration /urnisned. 
Words by F. II. C. Musi by Fred W. Howes. 












MARY AND HER SON. 33 

Enter Mary and Margaret, who carries Sonnie. 

Mar. {aside) — Lizzie is a nice girl. Accepts an invitation to a ride, 
and then asks me to take care of this youngster {exit) . 

M. — This is the last rehearsal I shall attend. My great success has 
made me about sick. One thing is sure, I shall ask for another four 
thousand, and get it, too. But these young Englishmen are so nice that 
I hope we will stay here a long time. Now is a good chance to rehearse 
my new song, as I am alone (sings). 

THOSE SPLENDID ENGLISHMEN. 

Now you've not an idea how nice they are. 
Why, they are ahead of ours', by far. 
They are not tall ; but so nice and sweet, 
And so very polite on the street, 

Are those splendid Englishmen. 

Spoken. — Yes, their whole bearing is simply wonderful. They are very fond of 
strangers, foreigners especially. If you are in any way distinguished, look out. But 
their talk is the most " striking " of all; for 

Everything is 'orrid and 'eavy with them. 
Their thoughts are as bright as a gem. 
They always have money to treat their friends ; 
For this practice they never make amends, — 
Do these splendid Englishmen. 

Spoken. — For what England lacks in hospitality, her gentlemen make up in gen- 
erosity. But there is one thing you will always notice; it is their peculiar style of 
walking; for 

It's more of a stride than a decent walk, — ■ 
About which all nations loudly talk. 
Let me advise — if to England you go — 
Don't come home walking horridly — so — {imitates) 
As those splendid Englishmen. 

Enter Stage Carpenter. Should be old and bent. This part 
can be taken by Chick. 

C. — I was told to inform all to dress for the first act. I am "setting" 
the scene now. 

M. — Don't you worry about me {exits) . 

C. — Little worrying I do (takes piece of scenery, behind which is Mrs. 
A. Much cojifusion). Oh! Oh! Where did you all fall from ? 
Enter M., Mar., and Jen. 

Mrs. A. (to C.) — You ought to be strangled (recognizes M.). My 
daughter ! My daughter ! 



34 MARY AND HER SON. 

M .— Mother ! 

A. — My daughter ! My daughter ! 
Par. — My children ! My children ! 
Jen. — When will wonders ever cease? 

M. — You should cease your wondering at this. It is the English style 
of family greeting. 

Jen. — Ah ! I think it would make a hit. 

M. — Allow me to introduce you to my parents, and an old friend, 
Rev. Mr. Deeproot. 

Jen. — I am delighted to meet them. I'll {aside) bet she will want me 
to give all of them a job {exit) . 

M. — Why, I almost forgot you, Margaret. Our old friend, Miss 
Mason. You have not forgotten her? 

A. — One of those who helped you to escape ? 
M. — Do you mean the time you sent me to the heathen ? 
Par. — Were they glad to see you ? 

Mar. — You probably understand why I was "so cruel" to you years 
ago. 

Mrs. A. — Never mind now ; we have changed our minds about theatres 
since then. 

A. — Yes, and our only trouble now is to find change enough to attend 
them. 

Mrs. A. — Sam 

M. — You must see the baby. Please bring him, Margaret {exit Mar.) . 
I am trying to do some good, and have taken a dear little child, whose 
parents were very poor. 

Par. — There is a saying that "whoever cares for others shall himself 
prosper." 

A. — That's the reason of your success, Mary. Ministers always strike 
the "key note." 

Enter Mar. with S. 
M. — Can you blame me? 

Mrs. A. {takes S.) — Blame you? We adore you for this kindness. 
A. — Let me see him {suddenly takes S.). 
Par. — It is wonderful how some men do love children. 

Enter Jennings. 
Jen. — Confound it ! Another breakdown ; and this time Salmoski has 
broken his arm. What I am goiag to do for a Macduff is more than I 
know. 



MARY AND HER SON. 35 

M. — I have a plan that will relieve you. Mr. Deeprootis a fine actor, 
for I have heard him give Macduff's part many times, with just the right 
enthusiasm. 

Jen. — Is she correct, sir? 

Par. — I have been, and am now, a devout student of Shakespeare, 
and have made Macduff my favorite. 

M. — My plan is for him to take the part. 

Par. — The idea. 

Jen. — Will you undertake it to help us out ? 

Par. — I will do anything to help Miss Anderson. 

Jen. — Your kindness shall be rewarded. 

Mrs. A. — I will engage a box. 

A. — The baby and I will take another. 

M. — As the boxes are very expensive, you will like a "wing" much 
better. 

A. — Any place will do, if we can only see him. 

Jen. — You had both better dress {exit M. and Par.). 
Enter Charlie Gladstun. 

Ch.— Here ! 

Jen. — What do you want ? 

Ch. — I want to see Miss Anderson. 

Jen. — She is engaged, and will see no one. 

Ch. — Will you inform me, then, where I can find a minister? 

Jen. — What do want of him ? 

Ch. — Well; you see Miss Anderson's maid "played upon my affec- 
tions" to such a degree that she caused me to believe that she was Miss 
Anderson, and I, like a fool, have married her. 

Jen. — In love affairs, young man, you should "look before you leap." 
There is a minister here, if you are very urgent {exits to call Par.) 

Ch. {falls on his knees before A.)—0\\, sir; if you can help me, do 
so, I adjure you. 

A. — Get off you knees, you puppy ! I am no minister ! Ch. rises. 
Enter Par., partially dressed. 

Par. — Yong man, how about the honeymoon ? 

Ch. — There is a terrible mistake. I guess all the honey is in the 
moon. Will you please procure some kind of divorce ? 

Par. — That will be impossible. If we were in the United States, I 
might succeed ; but the divorce laws in England are very strict. 

Ch. — I will "take passage" at once. 
Enter Lizzie. 



36 MARY AND HER SON. 

L. — Why, Charlie dear, I thought I had lost you ! 

A.— Sarah ! Sarah ! 

Mrs. A. — Our dear Sarah ! How happened you here ? 

L. — Why, I am overjoyed at meeting you. I have been with Mary a 
long time. Allow me to introduce you to my husband, Mr. Gladstun. 
Come Charlie {all bow). How to you like the baby? 

Ch. {aside) — What ! I wish I could fly ! 

Mrs. A. — He is charming. 

A. — Just a perfect cherub. 

Enter members of company dressed for their parts, who are called 
by boy. Here introduce specialties. 

Enter Stage Carpenter. 

C. — They want a baby ; let me take him {takes S., and is followed by 
L., Mrs. A. and A.). 

Enier Call Boy. 

Boy. — Where is Macduff? {exits, and soon returns with Par. all ready, 
and leads him to stage) . 

Enter Mrs. A. 

Mrs. A. — Come ! Come ! All of you ! The frog has eaten the baby ! 
All exit to stage. 

Enter Jen., "running" Bradlaw offstage. 
Jen. {re/urns) — No more frog for me. 

Enter Macbeth and Macduff fencing. They exit fencing. 
Jen. {follows) — That's enough, and blest be he who first cries enough ! 

Enter Company. Some excitement. 

C. — Miss Anderson you remember your old friend, Chick? 
M. — Certainly I do. 

C. — I am the same. The child you now have was mine. When my 
wife died she wished that I would give it to you. 

M. — So I have been caring for a little Chick all this time ? 
C. — Yes ; and for years to come if you like. 
M. — Just as you say. 

Enter L. with S., followed by A. and Mrs. A. 

L. — He is all right. 



MARY AND HER SON. 37 

A. — Only bruised his nose. 

M. {takes him) — 1 am so glad. 

Enter Jen. and Macduff carrying Macbeth on a stretcher. 

Par. — Miss Anderson. 
M. — I am here {all gather around). 

Par. — I may not be long among the living ; but let my last words be — 
I believe in the theatre. 

M. — He is only stage struck. 



TABLEAU. 



SLOW CURTAIN. 




NOTES. 



Suggestions as to Characters, Costumes, etc. 



In first act Mary should be dressed young (about 17 years), and in second and 
third acts, about 25 years. Very effecting. 

Mr. A.— Middle age. Coarse, everyday costume in first act. "Best" suit in 
second and third acts. 

Mrs. A.— Middle age. Quite orderly. Neat costume throughout. 

Sarah.— Age 20 years. Heavy voice. Very ordinary costume in first act, with 
much improvement in second and third. 

M rs. Chick.— Age 30 years. Very nice. " Tall and thin." 

Mr. C— Age 40 years. An "hen-pecked husband." Weak voice; light hair 
and whiskers; quite fleshy. As Stage Carpenter, quite old and bent. 

Jameson.— Age 30 years. Evidently " hard up " throughout. As Agent and 
Doctor, " one of the finest." 

Gladstin and Bradlaw. Two English "scarecrows." Voung and quite tall, 
with the broadest " twang." 

Margaret Mason.— Age 20 years. Very shy, but cautious. Very quick. 

Parson Deeproot.— Age 60 years. An ideal minister. White necktie, long 
black coat, etc. Always carries a cane. 

Jennings.— Age 45 years. White hair and whiskers. Troubled appearance 
throughout. 



llSSiiiiSiiiiiii 0NGRESS 

016 102 645 1 * 



